


All The Bright Places

by tigerrlilyy



Category: All the Bright Places - Jennifer Niven, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Anxiety, Art Student Kim Taehyung | V, Artist Kim Taehyung | V, Bottom Jeon Jungkook, Bottom Kim Taehyung | V, Closeted Character, Coming Out, Depression, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gay Panic, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Internalized Homophobia, Jock Jeon Jungkook, Kim Taehyung | V & Park Jimin are Best Friends, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Photography Major Jeon Jungkook, Popular Jeon Jungkook, Slow Burn, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Top Jeon Jungkook, Top Kim Taehyung | V, all the bright places but its taekook, its gonna be painful, its my first fic pls be kind, let’s go ladies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:28:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23336149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerrlilyy/pseuds/tigerrlilyy
Summary: Kim Taehyung is fascinated by death. Every day he thinks of ways he might die, but every day he also searches for-and manages to find- something to keep him here, and alive, and awake.Jeon Jungkook lives for the future, counting down the days until graduation, when he can escape the small town and his aching grief in the wake of his twin sister's death, the only person who knew him for who he truly was, and who kept his big secret.When Taehyung and Jungkook both attempt to take their lives on the same night, it is unclear who saves whom. Soon it's only with Jungkook that Taehyung can be himself, and its only with Taehyung that Jungkook forgets to count the days away and starts living them. But as Jungkook's world grows, Taehyung's begins to shrink...
Relationships: Jeon Jungkook & Original Female Character(s), Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V, Min Yoongi | Suga/Park Jimin
Comments: 64
Kudos: 52





	1. If you're going to jump at least do it right

**Author's Note:**

> hi this is my very first fic ever so pls, be kind. leave a comment maybe! sorry if there's any mistakes i impulsively chucked this up after reciving a pep talk from my bestfriend convincing me im not a terrible writer (thanks eve). this is obviously heavily inspired by all the bright places by jennifer niven so i am by no means trying to take all the credit. i actually doubt anyone is going to read this but if you happened to stumble across it- hi! thankyou! i hope you enjoy!

TAEHYUNG: 

Is today a good day to die? 

This is something Kim Taehyung asks himself in the morning when he wakes up. In third period when he’s trying to keep his eyes open while Miss Rackham drones on about hypochondria. When he’s scuffing his boots on the pavement as he wanders home from college. At the supper table as he picks up the potatoes. At night when he’s lying awake because his brain is running a million miles an hour. 

Is today the day? 

And if not today- when? 

He’s asking this now as he’s standing on a narrow ledge six stories above the ground. He’s so high up that he’s practically a part of the sky. When he looks down at the pavement below, the world tilts. He closes his eyes, enjoying the way everything spins. Maybe this time I’ll do it- let the air carry me away. It would be like floating in a pool, drifting off until there’s nothing. Except it wouldn’t, not really. It would be a long way down, and a very hard landing. Probably some screaming, some crying if he was lucky. A whole big commotion for the boy who jumped off the bell tower, but wait, what was his name again? 

Taehyung didn’t remember climbing up there. In fact, he didn’t remember much of anything before Sunday, at least, not anything so far this winter. This happens every time- the blanking out, the waking up. You’d think he had gotten used to it, but this time was the worst, because he wasn’t gone for a couple of days or a week or two- he was asleep for the holidays. Meaning Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s. He wasn’t sure what was different this time around, except when he woke up he felt deader than usual. Awake, yeah, but heavier, empty- like someone had been feasting on his blood and sucked him dry. 

He opened his eyes, and the ground is still there, hard and permanent. The tower itself is pretty small, with only a few feet on concrete floor space on all sides of the bell itself, and then the low stone railing, which he climbed to get there. Every now and then he knocks one of his legs against it to remind himself it’s there. 

Taehyung flung his arms out wide and tilted his head to the sky, bellowing “Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to welcome you to my death!”. You might have expected him to say life, as he just woke up and all, but its only when he’s awake that he thinks about dying. He’s shouting so exuberantly that he nearly loses his balance, teetering on the edge between life and death, which only makes him grin wider. The risk- kinda thrilling y’know? 

“I, Kim Taehyung, being of unsound mind, hereby bequeath all my glorious literature pieces to Park Jimin, because lord knows that beautiful boy has never picked up a book willingly in his life, the lil fucker, and I recommend him to read my all time favourite ‘A Court of Wings and Ruin’ so he can thirst over all the explicitly described men with abs.” Taehyung snorted, “And I leave my precious baby, my child, the love of my life- my magnificent polaroid camera, to the handsome bastard that is Kim Seokjin in hopes it will encourage him to take photos of something other than himself. Probably not though.” 

He swung his arms, gesturing wildly to his audience of endless stars nestled comfortably in the midnight sky. Taehyung allowed himself to pause, to tip his head back and breath in the biting cold air. Let it freshen his mind and sharpen his senses. He got distracted then, in a moment of peace, and crouched down to sit upon the ledge instead, leaning his back against the railing. Breathing. In, and out. In, and out. 

For a moment, all was quiet, even his mind, as he allowed himself to gaze up at the stars, jealous of the peace they basked in as he restlessly dragged himself through each day, wondering when it would finally be his last. If he had been a man of hope, maybe he would of wished to the stars, as many do, wished for a better life, one kinder to him than this one had been. Or maybe he would’ve wished for all the stars in the world to come pouring down into him, so he could finally fill the gaping void laying dormant deep in his chest, in his very soul. 

A buzz in his pocket pulled Taehyung out of his thoughts, 

THREE MUSKAQUEERS 

ThiccAss- pancake day tomo hoes 

PinkLipsBigDicks- its ur turn to cook 

ThiccAss- uhhh wat 

PinkLipsBigDicks- think youll find I made them last year bitch 

ThiccAss- oh yea I remember cuz they tasted like shit 

PinkLipsBigDicks- excuse me u fucking whore at least my pancakes weren’t LUMPY 

ThiccAss- idk what ur talkin bout 

PinkLipsBigDicks- pretty sure I choked on an eggshell 

ThiccAss- don’t worry this year ill make them as flat as your ass 

TaeBae- can u both stfu 

ThiccAss- tae!!!! 

ThiccAss- baby!!!! 

PinkLipsBigDicks- glad ur still breathing homie, now tell jimin my pancakes are better 

ThiccAss- bitch as if, he wouldn’t dare 

PinkLipsBigDicks- bet? 

ThiccAss- tae ur on my side right 

ThiccAss- cuz im ur fav 

PinkLipsBigDicks- don’t pull the favourite card 

PinkLipsBigDicks- this needs to be based off facts 

PinkLipsBigDicks- now lets all recall the time jimin set his toast on fire 

PinkLipsBigDicks- and the time he asked if he could microwave a frozen pizza 

PinkLipsBigDicks- so come again, WHO IS THE BETTER COOK 

ThiccAss- 🙁 

ThiccAss- meanie 

ThiccAss- tae?? 

Taebae- u can both cook me pancakes tomo n ill decide then 

PinkLipsBigDicks- its on bitch 

Taehyung clicked his phone shut, a small reserved smile laying on his face. Those idiots. Another sigh had him gazing up at the stars again. “Not tonight then.” He declared to them softly, before swinging his legs over the railing, snatching up his bag and pushing his way through the fire escape door. 

The walk home wasn’t long. He could’ve taken his bike, but Taehyung liked walking. Sometimes running. It was grounding. He loved pushing himself to his limits, feeling the burn in his limbs, the strain in his chest, the dizzying effect of the endorphins rushing through his body as his head swam. He liked the breathlessness of it. Like when you hold your breath so long you think you’re going to burst, and you push and push and push, battling with your natural instinct, before finally your body forces you to you gasp for air. The feeling when you take that first breath, the oxygen filling your lungs- the relief. That’s what he liked. 

Walking home, he began counting. Counting was also grounding, a good way to stay awake. Keep your mind awake. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. It could get kind of boring, but it was better than being asleep. 7,8,9. Anything was better than that really. 10, 11, 12, 13. 13 was a good number. An unlucky number for most, but for Taehyung it was the luckiest number of all. He was 13 when his dad left. Yeah no, don’t be sad, he was 13 when his dad stopped beating the shit out of him, his mum and his sister. 13 was a good number. When he turned 13 was when he could finally breathe. Sort of. When he was 13 was when the blanking out started, but its still a lucky number because although being asleep is shit, at least he’s not picking his sister up off the floor or clearing up a pool of his mum’s blood or piling concealer over bruises and blackeyes. 13 was a good number. 

As Taehyung rounded the corner of his street, a sight stopped him short. Standing a top of the Marney bridge, gazing down to the depths below, stood a boy. Even from where Taehyung was standing further away he could see the boy’s fingers trembling, shaking uncontrollably by his sides as he stood ramrod straight, tears pouring down his cheeks, breaths coming in short, harsh pants, as his widened eyes remained fixed on the ground far below. In that moment, he looked so young, so utterly terrified that Taehyung felt a pang in his chest. It was then that he noticed his college’s logo on the varsity jacket the boy wore. Taehyung cocked his head, and strolled forwards. 

“Whatchya doing?” 

The boy’s long dark tangled locks whipped in the nightly wind, as his head snapped around to see where the voice had come from. Taehyung leaned a hip against the bridge wall, resting an elbow there too, and gazed up into dark doe eyes that regarded him in shock. Taehyung watched as the blind panic in those eyes began to clear slightly, his breaths less haggard. 

“If you’re going to jump, I’d recommend aiming to land on your head, because if I'm honest, this bridge isn’t very high so you’d probably only break a few bones.” Taehyung hummed, feigning nonchalance but watching closely as his words began to register with the boy and he seemed to be finding his clarity. He doesn’t reply, or blink, just gazes from behind those glassy eyes. The boy tries to take a step back but the loose gravel slip underneath his foot and he teeters slightly. Before he can panic Taehyung says, “I don’t know what brings you up here, but if you’re looking for a view, I recommend the bell tower. The town looks a lot prettier up there and the people look nicer, apart from Jackson Wang, Sehun something-or-other and that whole crowd you run with.” 

The boy blinks then. The boy. Not really any boy. Jeon Jungkook. Frat boy. Jock. Whatever you want to call it. He was kind of pretty, clear skin, big doe eyes, soft lips, all underneath a tangled mop of hair, falling over his eyes. Taehyung didn’t know him personally, only knew he was on the football team and his asshole friend Jackson had shoved him into a few lockers. He’d never been explicitly bullied by Jungkook exactly, but he had stood and watched as his football buddies yelled ‘Freak’, shoved him into walls, torn his notes, that kind of thing. It was all very predictably cliché, apart from the fact that Taehyung didn’t go sniveling home to his mum. Oh no, he’d landed a fair few punches on Jackson’s perfect nose, and even once clamped his fingers around his throat and watched him struggle for air. But that one landed him in trouble. No, he wasn’t trying to kill him. No, he didn’t have anger management issues. No he absolutely was NOT going to therapy. 

“But let’s face it, you’re not looking for the view, right? I still recommend the bell tower then; it would be more effective. I was there earlier, maybe we should go jump together, hand in hand. Jungkook right?” 

He blinks once. I’ll take that as a yes. Taehyung hummed, because in front of him stood Jeon Jungkook. Football team’s golden boy. Prom King two years in a row. Boyfriend to perfectly popular Jennie. Perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect skin, perfect everything Jeon Jungkook, crying as he stood on a bridge looking like all hope in the world was lost. It was all a bit depressing really. 

“Kim Taehyung.” He points to himself. “We have biology together.” 

Jungkook blinks again. 

“I like biology, I really do, it’s better than all that physics shit, but I can’t do physics because I can’t do math. I excel at other things- painting, sex, consistently disappointing my mum, to name a few. Chemistry would be alright if it was like, proper Chemistry, y’know? Experimenting with different chemicals, blowing shit up. But it’s all chemical equations and the periodic table which is boring enough on its own but the way Miss Samsung drones on in a complete monotone just makes me want to stab my eyes out. So biology wins, because it’s all animals and plants and life. Life kinds sucks but not in biology.” 

Taehyung keeps talking, but he’s running out of steam and his stomach definitely just rumbled because he hasn’t eaten a thing since he woke up and he hasn’t a clue when he last ate at all. (Note to self: before trying to take own life, remember to have a snack.) It was also starting to rain, which in the current temperature, was sure to give them a chill and if he wasn’t going to die tonight then he really didn’t was to have to put up with a sniffly nose and a fever for the next few days. 

“It’s starting to rain.” He states, as if Jungkook doesn’t know this, as he turns to lean back fully on the side of the bridge, tipping his head hack to feel the droplets on his face. “There’s an old saying that rain washes away our sins, and the blood along with it, which is less mess to clean up afterwards. Bit it’s the mess part that got me thinking. I’m not a vain person, but I am human, and I don’t know about you but I don’t want to look like I’ve gone through the meat grinder at my funeral.” 

He’s shivering or shaking; Taehyung can’t really tell. But he looks so small, seemingly drowning in the varsity jacket. 

“I’ve made it clear to my mum that I want a cremation, but she has her heart set on the whole open casket idea. So it’ll be an open coffin for me, which means if I jump, it ain’t gonna be pretty. Besides I kind of like my face intact like this, two eyes, one nose, one mouth, white teeth, which, if I'm being honest, not vain, is my best feature.” Taehyung smiles so he can see what he means. Everything where it should be, on the outside at least. That, for whatever reason, seems to snap him out of it. 

“Oh fuck.” He whispers, so low Taehyung barely heard it. “Ohfuckohfuckohfuck.” 

“Fuck indeed.” Taehyung nodded. Before stepping forward and tugging at his the sleeve on his wrist. “Step backwards, not forwards, no messes tonight.” Jungkook nodded, the action knocking him off balance and tilting him forward. He panicked but Taehyung had already pulled his arm back, tugging the boy with him, as he stumbled on shaky legs off the side of the bridge and into a heap on the pavement by Taehyung’s feet. 

“Nicely done.” Taehyung regarded him for a second, doe eyes staring up at him, nearly completely clear now, the panic gone. He held his gaze with the boy on the floor for a moment longer, neither uttering a word, before picking up his discarded bag and swinging it over his shoulder. “It’s pancake day tomorrow.” He bid as a farewell before continuing on down his street, leaving a disheveled Jeon Jungkook on the floor, staring after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my twitter is @vminlilyx uwu


	2. Raindrops and Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But when he woke up in the hospital and got told that he was okay, there had been an accident, it’s going to be okay, Jisoo had crashed their car, she had been high, drunk driving, it was icy that night, the car had slipped, it wasn’t safe, there was an accident, he was okay, Jisoo didn’t make it, he thought that maybe, just maybe, this was all his fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg hi, it's currently 3am and i've just finished writing this. there's absolutely going to be typos and mistakes that i'll need to go back and edit but fuck it. i really hope you enjoy (me saying you like im addressing an audience as if anyone other than eve is reading this lmao)

JUNGKOOK:

Shit. Shit shit fucking shit. Shit when did breathing get so hard? It shouldn't be. Hard. We are all born with the natural capability to breath from the moment we enter the world. We don’t even have to think about it, we just do it. So why, pray tell, can Jeon Jungkook not fucking breathe? There’s a few answers to this question, some complicated, some rather simple. It’s not really the question we should be asking though. What we should probably be asking is, why is Jeon Jungkook about to jump off a bridge? 

Again, there’s not one simple answer. Because maybe if it had been one moment, or event, to have triggered this royal mental breakdown, then maybe it would be a little easier. Easier to explain. Easier to resolve. But it’s not, easy. And it’s not just one moment. It’s one gigantic mass of moments piling atop one another, getting heavier and heavier on his chest and filling him up up up, bubbling and spilling over, bursting at the seams. 

Eventually he does, burst that is. But to understand why you need to understand a few other things first. 

When Jeon Jungkook was 7 he was happy. His first 7 years of life had been rather uneventful, in the best way possible. He had his mother, his father, his twin sister Jisoo. They had a lovely home, with a big garden where’d he’d play football with his dad and play with Jisoo and their pet golden retriever Hope. His days where filled with childish bliss and ignorance- life was so simple. Just when things couldn’t get any better for the Jeon family, his mother fell pregnant again, and Jungkook and his sister anticipated their new baby brother’s arrival with nothing other than undulated joy. And that’s where it started. 

His mother had a complicated pregnancy, falling sick early on and having many trips back and forth from the hospital. But she kept her head up and kept smiling, saying that if she could carry and birth twins, she could do anything. She was wrong. She experienced obstructed labour, had a uterine rupture during her cesarean and bled out on the operating table. The child had been stillborn. That was the first event of many that rocked Jeon Jungkook’s world. At such a young age, he didn’t fully grasp the concept of death, not realising that he was truly never seeing his mother again in this life. Grief stricken, Jungkook’s father packed their bags and moved them halfway across the country, away from anything and anyone who could remind him of his late wife. This meant new home, new school, new life. 

The changes in the twins were not noticeable at first, yet became more apparent as time went on. Where both used to be loving, obedient, polite children, they both seemed to ricochet in two different directions. Jungkook became quiet, reserved, so much so that they slapped a label of ‘selective mutism’ on him. Jisoo on the other hand became moody, erratic and sometimes violent. By the time they were 11 and starting to experience the newly raging hormones of the begnnings of teenage life, their father had all but given up on trying to change his children back to the once perfect models they were. 

By age 12, Jungkook realised his father was an alcoholic. He couldn’t blame him really, his mother’s death hitting the entire family in different ways, and they all had their coping mechanisms. Jungkook’s was locking himself away from the world. Jisoo’s was breaking something (or someone). His father’s was drinking. He couldn’t blame him, but he couldn’t help resent him for it. Resent the stumbling, the sound of glass breaking, the raised voices when him and Jisoo would go at it for whatever reason. He never became a violent drunk, never raising a hand to his children, he just became a useless drunk, not getting out of bed, not cooking them food, not doing the washing. At age 12 Jungkook and Jisoo were raising themselves and their father, except Jisoo would stay out with her friends doing god knows what, so Jungkook was the one left at home to get their lives together. 

High school. Well, what can you say, it’s high school. Jisoo quickly became popular, with her bubbily, confident personality, and as she grew older, her looks. Intern with her popularity, Jungkook found his own. He joined the football team, and although was painfully shy at first, began to slowly come out of his shell. He understood from the moment he stepped on High School turf that no one would like who he was, and that he would have to mold himself to be likeable. It may have been a mask, but after wearing it for so long, he began to forget any different. 

His father found a girlfriend. It was rather baffling to Jungkook himself, how someone would look at the washed up passed out drunk man and think, that’s the one for me. But it happened, and it helped, shockingly. Her name was Suzie. She was short, slightly round, had badly died hair and smelled of cigarettes. She had no children of her own, and wasn’t too fond of the twins herself, all tending to stay out of each others way. But she got their father up in the mornings and he cut down on his drinking, went back to work, started to slowly put his life back together, taking some of the pressure off Jungkook to keep things running.

Just as things began to look up, another wave hit. Obviously. Isn’t that how life goes? At age 14 Jungkook had his first panic attack. It was in the bathroom at school, an hour before his first championship game. He wasn’t sure how it happened. He had always been overly self-critical, always in his head berating himself for something he said or something he did. These thoughts seem to just keep running and running until suddenly he couldn’t breathe. He even began clawing at his throat, as if he could physically rip it and open up his airways himself, choking on silent screams as he fell to his knees, eyes blurred and head swimming, heart beating a jackrabbit rhythm, threatening to burst from his chest. He had no idea how long it lasted, or why it began to ease, but eventually his breaths came a little easier until he was just sobbing on the floor of the boys’s bathroom, confused and shocked and so very scared. A panic attack. An anxiety disorder. Fuck mental health seriously. 

From then it was a downhill slope. Crowded places? Panic attack. Exam in school? Panic attack. Doing something awkward subsequently leading him to overthink for hours on end convincing himself that everybody hated him? Panic attack. He managed to hide it marvellously, from the outside the world saw cool, calm, collected Jeon Jungkook, a bit of an entitled dickhead but a HOT entitled dickhead and that’s all people really cared about. The only one who knew the truth was Jisoo, whom he’d spilled absolutely everything too on one of their late night chats on their roof under the stars. No matter how different the twins seemed, they still shared the same heart, and their connection never wavered, not once. 

When Jeon Jungkook was 16 he got his first girlfriend. Her name was Annie and she had pretty blue eyes and long blonde hair and wore very short skirts that showed off her long tanned legs. Jungkook thought she was pretty, sure, but he didn’t feel explicitly attracted to her. But honestly, he didn’t feel attracted to anyone and he wasn’t quite sure what that was supposed to feel like so he assumed it was this. She was his first kiss and he remembered their lips meeting and him thinking, oh. It wasn’t anything like the books or the movies had described, no fireworks or electricity. Just lips. A bit wet, a bit soft, kind of warm but not as warm as described. Not that rush of warm that fills your entire body from your head to your toes, not that. Just, lukewarm. He didn’t hate it, so he just assumed that was it. 

Jisoo was his best friend. They were twins, and were bound to be close, but she was truly his soulmate. She was the one person he could be completely himself around, free of judgement. No mask, no expectations. He didn’t have to behave a certain way to impress her or act a certain way because it was what the other boys did. She accepted and loved him for who he was, and if she found it odd that a 17 year old boy was unhealthily obsessed with watching chick flicks and reading romance novels well, she didn’t mention it. She was there for him through anything and everything, through every breakup, panic attack, therapy session, fight with his father, everything. He tried to be there for her, he really did, but he always felt that she put up this thick stone wall around her, and no one was allowed inside. He felt that he got the closest, that he was allowed to occasionally sit on the wall and peer inside, but he could pass no further. 

Jisoo went through boyfriends like socks, gaining quite the reputation in their High School. Not just for her extremely public sexual life, but also for her recreational activities. When Jisoo came home at three in the morning higher than a kite and off her head on whatever drug she had taken that evening, Jungkook said nothing, simply tucked her in bed and placed a glass of water on her nightstand. He owed her, he thought, the lack of judgement that she gave him, he owed her that. Maybe that’s why he blamed himself, because he did nothing. At the time he thought he was being a good brother. But when he woke up in the hospital and got told that he was okay, there had been an accident, it’s going to be okay, Jisoo had crashed their car, she had been high, drunk driving, it was icy that night, the car had slipped, it wasn’t safe, there was an accident, he was okay, Jisoo didn’t make it, he thought that maybe, just maybe, this was all his fault. 

So here we are. Standing on the wall of the Marney bridge, looking down to the rocks below, right where Jisoo has slipped off the road, driving straight into the wall, killing herself on impact and nearly killing her twin brother sat asleep in the passenger seat. 

Shit. Shit shit fucking shit. Shit when did breathing get so hard? When you’re having a panic attack. Jungkook didn’t know how he ended up here. Maybe it was the fact that today was the one year anniversary since losing half his soul. Maybe it was the argument he’d had with his father an hour ago. Maybe it was just the stupid fucking anxiety that racked his body and haunted his thoughts reminding himself that he will never be good enough, to give up now because what’s the fucking point? A year. An entire year and his pain has not eased even a fraction. It’s never going to stop. So much pain. Too much. Breathing is hard and Jeon Jungkook can’t breathe. He thinks he can hear someone, and turns his head towards the sound, but his mind is blank and he can’t feel his limbs and his eyes are blurry and all he can hear is his heart thundering in his head as his lungs close and he can’t BREATHE. 

That’s definitely a voice. It’s deep, like the ocean. Melodic. Velvety almost. Soothing. He can’t make out what it’s saying, his head feeling like it was underwater, but its grounding nonetheless. Breathe. In and out, in and out. His heart is slowing down now, just a bit, and the fog over his eyes is clearing. His mind is still hazy, but Jungkook can definitely hear someone talking aside from that cruel voice in his head. Maybe he’s going crazy or maybe it’s a hallucination after the panic attack because who even knows at this point, but he’s pretty sure there’s a boy there with him and oh. Oh. Big soulful eyes, smooth tanned skin, soft chocolate hair, full pink lips. Pretty. The thought startles him, causing a foot to slip behind him, the voice carries on talking a never ending stream of words that aren’t quite registering in Jungkook’s mind yet but wow he’s pretty. Definitely a hallucination. He’s leaning casually against the bridge wall, just- 

The bridge wall. 

He’s standing on it. 

He was going to jump. 

“Oh fuck.” Oh god. “Ohfuckohfuckohfuck.” 

“Fuck indeed.” Is the first words he registers from the hallucination boy and , oh, he just grabbed his wrist. Hold on. Hallucinations don’t touch you. 

“Step backwards, not forwards, no messes tonight.” The boy says, eyes calm but sharp as razors. Jungkook nods dumbly because oh shit he’s real, and, how does someone who looks like THAT actually exist in real life because wow, like- oh shit. SHIT. Jungkook lost his balance and for a moment, as he tips forward over the edge of the bridge he thinks, I don’t want to die. But then he’s being tugged backwards with such a force it sends him toppling onto the pavement landing in a heap. His legs feel like jelly and his heart’s still pounding, but he’s face to face with a long pair of legs and he looks up to meet those eyes again. 

“Nicely done.” And wow, is Jungkook blushing? Because no homo but his voice just hit new baritones that Jungkook didn’t even know existed. He’s absolutely staring like an idiot and should say something because he looks utterly insane right now. He’s so close he can smell him, is that roses? 

“It’s pancake day tomorrow.” The boy nods, and walks away. 

Huh. 

Wait. What? 

Jungkook remains on the floor, still panting for his breath, as he watches the long legged boy stroll away, back to him, down the street. His mind is a muddle and his heart is still hammering, but he can sift through his thoughts later as right now he needs to get going, because suddenly it’s raining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls leave a comment with any constructive criticism/your thoughts!  
> im so new to this and would rly appreciate it!  
> thank u <3


	3. Pancake Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taehyung was only half listening, distracted thoroughly by the holes being burned into the side of his head by a pair of eyes across the room. He flicked his eyes up and caught a pair of doe ones staring at him. Taehyung gazed up through his lashes while raising a brow, lifted his hand, and gave a coy little wave. Eyes widening slightly at being caught, Jungkook whipped his head back around to face the front, the tips of his ears turning a soft scarlet.

TAEHYUNG: 

Technically he’s on probation this year, due to a small matter involving a desk and a chalkboard. It’s also due to a guitar smashing incident during assembly, an illegal use of fireworks, and maybe a finger or two. As a result, Taehyung had involuntarily agreed to weekly counselling, maintaining a high B average, and participating in at least one extracurricular. He chose cooking so that he could pester Seokjin for an hour straight (because he sure as HELL wasn’t joining dance with Jimin, no humiliation kink here.) 

He also has to behave himself, play well with others, resist the urge to smoke on school property, refrain from throwing desks as well as any ‘violent physical altercations’, and above all he must always, always, hold his tongue, because not doing so is, apparently, how trouble starts. Anything less and its expulsion for him. 

Inside the counselling office feet kicked up on the desk and head lolled backwards, Taehyung began drawing patterns in his mind, playing dot to dot from the marks on the ceiling. Hunched over the desk with an expression only to be described as pure exasperation, sat Mr Bull. He was a short, thick set man, rather stocky, and he had his eyes set on Taehyung like he was a suspect he needed to crack. 

“Care to explain why you were on the school bell tower last night, Mr Kim?” 

Taehyung lifted his head and narrowed his eyes, “Have you been stalking me, Mr Bull? Because I’m pretty sure that breaks at least 5 child safety laws and would be deemed highly inappropriate seeing as you’re a teacher.” 

“CCTV, Mr Kim. Now what the hell were you doing on the bell tower?” 

“Admiring the view.” 

“Were you planning to jump off?” 

“Not with pancake day right around the corner. I love pancakes. Best day of the year. Rivals Christmas in my opinion.” Taehyung grinned like a cheshire cat. He was a brilliant deflector. So brilliant that he could get a full scholarship to college and major in it, except why bother? He’d already mastered the art. 

“I need to know if you were planning to harm yourself, take this seriously Mr Kim. If the Board hear about this you’re gone before you can say ‘suspended’, or worse. Not to mention if I don’t pay attention and you decide to go back and jump off, I’m looking at a lawsuit, and on the salary they pay me, believe me when I say that I do not have the money to be sued. This holds true whether you jump off the bell tower, the Marney bridge, whether it’s school property or not.” 

At the mention of the Marney bridge Taehyung’s mind buzzed, wondering if he’d see a pair of doe eyes round the hallways that day. He stroked his chin as if he were deep in thought. 

“The Marney bridge, now there’s an idea.” 

Like most people of his age, Mr Bull didn’t believe in humour, especially when it pertains to sensitive subjects. “Not funny, Mr Kim. This is not a joking matter.” 

“No, of course sir. Sorry, sir.” 

“The thing suicides don’t focus on is their wake. Not just your parents and siblings but your friends, your girlfriends, your classmates, your teachers.” Taehyung liked the way he seemed to think he had many, many people depending on him, including not just one but multiple girlfriends. 

“I was just messing around, watching the stars. I’ve recently taken in interest in astrology you see, did you know there’s an estimated one hundred billion stars in our Milky Way galaxy, and other galaxies are estimated to contain anywhere between ten million and one trillion stars. I like looking at them sir, and what better place to see the stars than the bell tower? That’s all.” 

Mr Bull, used to Taehyung’s ramblings, picked up a file and thumps it down in front of him and stars flipping through it. He finds what he’s looking for and stands, just like a cop on TV, and walks around the desk until he’s looming over him . He leans against it, arms folded, and Taehyung gazes past him, searching for the hidden two-way mirror. 

“Do I need to call your mother?” 

“No, sir.” No, no no no. “It was a stupid thing to do, I just wanted to look at the stars, it helps when things get a bit... much. I would never jump from the bell tower.” 

“If it happens again, if you so much as think about it again, I call her. And you’re going to do a drug test.” 

“I appreciate your concern, sir.” He tries to sound his most sincere, because the last thing he wants is a bigger, brighter spotlight following him throughout the halls of the school, throughout the other parts of his life, such as they are. “As for the whole drug thing, there’s no need to waste precious time. Really. Unless cigarettes count. Drugs and me? Not a good mix. Believe me, I’ve tried.” He folds his hands like a good boy. “As for the whole bell tower thing, even though it wasn’t at all what you think, I can still promise that it won’t happen again.” 

“That’s right, it won’t. I want you here twice a week instead of once. You come in Monday and Friday and talk to me, just so I can see how you’re doing.” 

“I’m happy to, sir- I mean, I, like, really enjoy these conversations of ours- but I’m good.” 

“It’s nonnegotiable. Now let’s discuss the end of last semester. You missed four, almost five , weeks of college. Your mother says you were sick with the flu.” 

He was actually talking about Taehyung’s sister, Kina, who called instead-their mother has enough to worry about. 

“If that’s what she says, then who are we to argue?” 

The fact is, he was sick, but not in an easily explained flu kind of way. It’s his experience that people are a lot more sympathetic if they can actually see you hurting, and for the millionth time in his life he wished for measles or smallpox or some other recognisable disease just to make it simple for him and also for them. Anything would be better than the truth: I shut down again. I went blank. One minute I was spinning, and the next minute my mind was dragging itself around in a circle, like an old, arthritic dog trying to lie down. And then I just turned off and went to sleep, but not sleep in the way you do every night. Think a long, dark sleep where you don’t dream at all. 

Yeah, no. 

Mr Bull once again narrows his eyes to squint and stares at him hard, “And can we expect you to show up and stay out of trouble this semester?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“And keep up with your classwork?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“I’ll arrange the drug test with the nurse.” He jabs a finger at him, “Probation means, ‘period of testing somebody’s suitability; period when student must improve.’ Look it up, Mr Kim, and for Christ’s sake, stay alive.” 

The thing Taehyung doesn’t say is: I want to stay alive. The reason he doesn’t say it is because given the fat folder in front of him, he’d never believe it. And something else he’d never believe- he's fighting to be there, in the shitty, messed up world. Standing on the edge of the bell tower wasn’t about dying. It was about having control. It’s about never going to sleep again. 

Mr Bull hands him some leaflets, all on troubled teens and mental health, that subsequently meet the bin once Taehyung has exited his office. The hallways are quiet, he’s missed the start of first period. Being an art major, Taehyung had an easier time skipping those lessons than most, which was handy as he hardly ever showed up. His tutor, Miss Lee, had long since given up on getting him to attend, as long as he completed his work and handed it in on time, she said nothing of it. Minoring in Biology though, he got it in the neck whenever he didn’t turn up, and it was just his luck that he was late for his Biology lesson. Typical. This would result in late entry, Mrs Lockmore demanding why he was late, and Taehyung having to admit to the entire class that it was because he was in a counselling session? Absolutely not. 

Though, being on probation meant that he really couldn’t afford to ditch anymore classes, so with heavy feet Taehyung dragged himself to the Science labs. Stopping outside of the lab, he bent down, untied his shoe, and shoved it in his backpack. Kicking the door open with his shoeless foot, Taehyung called, 

“Do not fear, I have arrived!” A flurry of snickers rumbled throughout the lab from his classmates, most definitely laughing at him as opposed to with him, but he had long since learnt to blur the lines between the two. 

“How gracious of you to finally show up, Mr Kim. Care to explain why you’re turning up to my class 15 minutes late?” Mrs Lockmore drawled, unimpressed. 

“A homeless man STOLE my shoe!” Taehyung gestured wildly to his socked foot, “And not only that but he tried to cut my hair, claiming it would sell for buckets on the black market as its so well conditioned.” 

“How fascinating. Take a seat before I book you for detention, Mr Kim.” 

Taehyung sauntered over to his seat at the back, by the window, chucking his bag to the floor and hopping into his chair with a clatter, leaning back immediately to start rocking on it. After a moment’s silence, the class resumed to where it had left off, a gentle hum of voices floating in the air as Mrs Lockmore set a practical task for the group. 

Taehyung was only half listening, distracted thoroughly by the holes being burned into the side of his head by a pair of eyes across the room. He flicked his eyes up and caught a pair of doe ones staring at him. Taehyung gazed up through his lashes while raising a brow, lifted his hand, and gave a coy little wave. Eyes widening slightly at being caught, Jungkook whipped his head back around to face the front, the tips of his ears turning a soft scarlet. Taehyung hummed to himself. How odd. He seemed strangely shy for a popular jock. Or maybe he was just embarrassed about the previous night. 

Class proved to be rather uneventful after that, apart from the odd message from his group chat with Seokjin and Jimin to keep him entertained, Taehyung spent the majority of his time gazing at the dark mop of hair at the back of Jungkook’s head, four rows in front and six to the right, which stayed firmly forward for the remaining hour. 

At the sound of the bell, Taehyung snatched his bag up and without a second glance, marched out of the door. 

THREE MUSKAQUEERS 

TaeBae- where r u 

PinkLipsBigDicks- in the cooking block. the battle is on. 

TaeBae- sounds v serious 

ThiccAss- pancake time bicthes!!! 

ThiccAss- are you ready to lose hyung 

PinkLipsBigDicks- ive never lost a day in my life and im sure as hell not starting today 

ThiccAss- tae get here now and watch me whoop his flat ass 

PinkLipsBigDicks- another word about my ass and this fork is going up yours 

TaeBae- coming b4 hyung commits murder 

PinkLipsBigDicks- its too late, park jimin is no longer with us 

TaeBae- rip 

As Taehyung is walking down the halls, on his way to the cooking block, he hears raised voices and laughter. Glancing up he makes exact eye contract with Jackson Wang. Great. He peels himself from the wall and blocks his way. As usual, he’s not alone, Jennie Bynes waits just behind, hip jutted out, Kim Yugyeom and Oh Sehun on either side of her, as well as Jung Hoseok and, of course, Jeon Jungkook. Nice, easygoing, decent Hoseok, captain of the football team and grade A pushover in social conflict. The worst thing about him is that he’s known him since kindergarten, they were even friends at one point. Not a bad guy, just a slightly spineless one. 

“Stop looking at me, freak.” Jackson spat. 

“I wasn’t looking at you. Believe me, there are at least a thousand other things in this school I’d rather look at before you, including Mr Bull’s large, naked ass.” 

“Faggot.” 

Because Taehyung and Jackson have been sworn enemies since middle school, he shoves his books out of his hands, and even though its right out of Fifth Grade Bullying 101, Taehyung feels a familiar black grenade of anger- like an old friend- go off in his stomach, the thick, toxic smoke from it rising up and spreading through his chest. It’s the same feeling he had last year in that instant before he had picked up a desk and hurled it- not at Jackson, like he wanted everyone to believe, but at the chalkboard in Miss Lockmore’s room. 

“Pick ‘em up, bitch.” Jackson walks past him, knocking him in the chest-hard- with his shoulder. Taehyung wanted to slam his head into a locker and then reach down his throat and pull his heart out through his mouth, because the thing about being Awake is that everything in you is alive and aching and making up for lost time. But instead he counted all the way to sixty, a stupid smile plastered on his face. I will not get detention. I will not get expelled. I will be good. I will be quiet. I will be still. 

Movement from further up the corridor catches Taehyung’s eye- Mr Bull is watching from a doorway. Taehyung tries to give him a causal not to show him everything’s cool, everything’s under control, everything’s fine, nothing to see, palms aren’t itching, skin isn’t burning, blood isn’t pumping, please move along. He’d made a promise to himself that this year would be different. If he kept ahead of everything, including himself, he should be able to stay awake. Awake and present and alive. 

The crowd dispersed as Taehyung bent down the pick up his books, rising again, his eyes flickered to the last person to leave, and as doe eyes started back with soft parted lips and an unreadable expression, Taehyung wondered why the world had to make the pretty ones so impossible to attain. Jeon Jungkook seemed to hover for a moment, as if he were going to say something, before thinking better of it and continuing down the hall with his friends. 

* 

It was absolute chaos in the college’s cooking department. Jimin had somehow managed to get flour all throughout his newly dyed pink locks while simultaneously getting it over every surface within a 50ft radius of him, and Seokjin looked like he was about to shove him in the oven and whack it on full blast. Taehyung watched his friends bicker in mild amusement as he waited patiently to be the judge of Seokjin’s pancakes and whatever monstrosity Jimin puts in front of him. 

“You do realise you have to clean all of this up, don’t you?” 

“WE will be cleaning it, yes.” 

“We? YOU are the one who decided to lob flour everywhere and drop three eggs on the floor.” 

“Hey, this is both our messes, your side is dirty too!” 

“That’s because you spilt your shit on my side asshole!” 

“Oh hyung stop bitching, is this your coping mechanism for when you know you’re going to lose?” 

“Park Jimin, if Taehyung manages to not vomit that shit back up immediately I will give you a medal. I mean, look at it!” 

“What’s wrong with it?” 

“YOUR PANCAKES ARE GREEN!” 

“SO FUCKING WHAT?” 

“THERE’S KETCHUP ON THEM!” 

“What do you guys know about Jeon Jungkook?” Taehyung’s voice snapped the boys out of their argument, causing them to whip their heads towards him. 

“Excuse me?” Seokjin raised a brow, “Jeon Jungkook as in hot jock choke me with those thighs daddy Jeon Jungkook? Jackson’s friend Jeon Jungkook?” 

“Yes?” 

“Well you heard about his sister right, the twin?” Jimin piped up, leaning his face on his hands. Taehyung nodded slowly, vaguely recalling something about it from last year, the details hazy though as he’d been asleep through most of it. 

“Car accident right?” 

“Yeah, apparently he was in the car with her.” Jimin lowered his voice, as he always did when dishing gossip he always somehow managed to get his hands on. “It was never confirmed officially but rumour has it she was on some mad drug trip, drunk too, and drove them both home from a party. Not sure why Jungkook didn’t drive, apparently he hadn’t even been drinking. It was icy. Car crashed into the Marney bridge, near your house, Tae.” 

The pieces began clicking together in Taehyung’s mind. Well, shit. The Marney bridge, huh. 

“Why the sudden interest? Don’t tell me you have a crush on him, Tae.” Seokjin winced. 

“God, no.” Taehyung snorted, loud and unattractively. “Just wondered, is all.” 

Jimin eyed him suspiciously, but Seokjin shrugged and turned back to the kitchen counter top, picking up both plates with each pancakes on and placing them in front of Taehyung. 

“Now eat this shit so you can tell short ass over here that I won.”


	4. Not-so-sweet Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taehyung. Kim Taehyung. How is he EVERYWHERE? Sauntering down the corridor in an oversized grey hoodie, paired with black ripped skinny jeans. It would’ve been a normal outfit if he hadn’t covered the hoodie in multi coloured paint splatters, sewed badges onto it, as well as wearing two completely different shoes that were most definitely not a pair and finishing the look off with a pink bandanna pulling his hair off his face, exposing those dark, piercing eyes, lined with a smudge of brown eyeliner. His honey brown hair looked so soft, like a silken scarf. Jungkook wondered what it would be like to run his fingers thr- 
> 
> Wait what the fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry it's so short, but i've had some things happening in my personal life that has made it hard to write and I'm a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to my work, so didn't want to upload a pile of crap.  
> not entirely sure i avoided that though as i'm not satisfied with this chapter at all but we move!  
> another chapter is coming soon, hope you read the slow burn tag because boy is it slow burn.  
> angst is on the way...

JUNGKOOK 

The nightmares were back. Well, they never really left, not properly. But they would ease and spike, sometimes the next morning he wouldn’t even remember them, other times the memory of them would rattle his bones for the rest of the day, haunting his mind and demanding to be heard. He’d managed to control the panic that came with them, anxiety and nightmares hand in hand, minimalizing it to just some cold sweats and harsh breaths. At least they no longer brought panic attacks, so that was progress at least. 

Jungkook let the buzz of college drown out his ever loud thoughts, Hoseok’s arm slung across his shoulders as him and his friends made their way down the corrider after first period. 

“You ready to get back on form at practise tonight, JK?” Hoseok poked him in the ribs teasingly, wide smile disarmingly bright for such a gloomy morning. Jungkook plastered on his best im-totally-fine-and-not-still-shaking-from-last-nights-nightmare face. 

“You bet, captain.” 

“Yeah better step up your game, JK, I'm aiming to kick you outta your QB spot this year.” Jackson smirked. 

“Right,” Jungkook snorted, “maybe if you spent more time practising than staring at the cheer team.” 

“I appreciate tits man, something you seem to lack.” Jackson hummed, “Hwasa’s throwing a party this Friday, you coming?” 

“It’s the start of semester.” Jungkook said flatly. 

“Yeah and she wants to get in your pants, man, so you coming?” 

“She’s been bugging me for your number, getting kinda annoying.” Hoseok agreed, leaning against the lockers. 

“As team captain shouldn’t you be on my side?” Jungkook arched a brow. 

“Yeah but Hobi’s got his priorities straight, besides, Clo’s going and he’s set on hitting that.” Jackson winked, high fiving Hoseok who grinned. 

“I think I’ll pass.” Jungkook rolled his eyes. He hadn’t been to a party since... well, you know. It had been easy to avoid at first, it wasn’t a surprise he wanted time away from it. But as time went on, he began making excuses, that he was ill, or had homework, or his parents were out of town so he had to look after the dog. His friends had never pushed it, just whined at him before moving on, but a year down the line now, he should be normal. He should be able to think about going to a party without wanting to vomit. He should be able to go to a party like a normal college student and not worry about having a panic attack. He should be OKAY. 

“Come on, man. Stop being a negative fucking nancy, just come. Hwasa is really into you.” Jackson pushed. 

“I said no, man.” Jungkook narrowed his eyes a bit, crossing his arms over his chest, but the shift in his feet gave away how uncomfortable he felt. 

“You’re telling me you’d miss a party thrown by Hwasa, big tit, bis ass, Hwasa, who wants to bang you? And for what? Homework?” Jackson sneered, his voice getting incredulous. “You don’t wanna bang her?” 

“Jackson.” Hoseok frowned, noticing Jungkook’s discomfort. 

“Not really.” Jungkook said flatly. 

“Man you’re on some whack shit, you gotta be gay or something to not wanna hit that.” 

Jungkook felt his insides clench as it felt like all eyes turned to him. 

“What the fuck, Jackson?” Jungkook forced a laugh out, the others followed suit, seemingly unaware of the tightly coiled tension wrapping itself like vines round Jungkook’s chest. 

“I just don’t feel up to it, doesn’t make me a fucking fag.” Jungkook rolled his eyes. Jackson huffed, a smirk breaking out across his face as Yugyeom gave him a shove as he laughed too. 

“Speaking of fags, hey! Freak!” Jackson moved away from the lockers and crowded up to, oh shit, Taehyung. Kim Taehyung. How is he EVERYWHERE? Sauntering down the corridor in an oversized grey hoodie, paired with black ripped skinny jeans. It would’ve been a normal outfit if he hadn’t covered the hoodie in multi coloured paint splatters, sewed badges onto it, as well as wearing two completely different shoes that were most definitely not a pair and finishing the look off with a pink bandanna pulling his hair off his face, exposing those dark, piercing eyes, lined with a smudge of brown eyeliner. His honey brown hair looked so soft, like a silken scarf. Jungkook wondered what it would be like to run his fingers thr- 

Wait what the fuck. 

Jungkook pulled himself out of his thoughts and back to the present, just in time to watch Jackson knock the books out of Taehyung’s hands as his friends sniggered around him. Hoseok looked mildly uncomfortable, only noticeable to Jungkook who was rather observant, but kept quiet while leaning against the lockers beside him. As his friends filed away Jungkook felt those eyes on him, and he raised his gaze to meet them. He felt frozen. Pinned under Taehyung’s dark stare, face blank but eyes stripping him of every defence he'd carefully piled up over months, in mere seconds. 

Jungkook hesitated, opened his mouth to say something. But what? Say what exactly. Apologise? Was he out of his mind? This was no new shiny occurrence. He suddenly felt rather stupid and dropped his gaze, swinging his backpack further up his shoulder and feigning nonchalance as he strolled after his friends down the corridor, with the feeling of those dark eyes piercing through the back of his head. 

* 

The nightmares were intense that night. Jungkook used to write them down, in the early hours he jolted awake, panting and shaking. He doesn’t anymore, there’s no need. They’re vivid enough. Memorable enough. So much so that they cling to him like a second skin, a grimy layer he seems never able to scrub off. You’d expect his nightmares to be about the night of the crash, it would make sense. But they’re not, they’re senseless, abstract, and somehow it makes them even more haunting. Like the one where he’s literally melting away. In the dream, his mother is there, though he can’t quite see her, just the blurry haze of her as his mind doesn’t quite remember exactly what she looked like. 

She says, “You’ve come to the end Jungkook, you’ve reached your limit. We all have them, and yours is now,” in a monotone voice, almost robotic and not her at all. But I don’t want it to be, he would think. He watches his feet turn into a puddle and disappear. Next were his hands. It didn’t hurt, and he remembered thinking, I shouldn’t mind this because there’s no pain at all. It’s just like slipping away. But he does mind as, limb by limb, the rest of him went invisible before he wakes up. 

Sometimes it’s just sounds. Screaming, scratching, loud crashes. And emptiness, darkness swallowing him whole, his throat constricting and a pressure behind his eyes that makes him feel like his head will explode. 

Sometimes it’s easier to just not sleep at all. Eyes staring blankly at his ceiling as his mind ticks over and over and over. 

His father had insisted on him seeing a psychiatrist when he’d awoken to Jungkook screaming in the middle of the night. It was awkward to say the least, and he only agreed so that it would alleviate the constant questions and nagging and the weight of his father’s eyes on him. After not wanting to bother raising his children for most of their lives while Jungkook wished for his father’s attention, now the one time that Jungkook wanted to be left alone, his father insisted on suddenly parenting him and telling him what to do. 

Jungkook’s psychiatrist was called Kate. The most annoying thing about her was that no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t hate her. He by no means liked her, or even enjoyed her company, but he knew that maybe in different circumstances, he would feel differently. She had short blue hair, tattoos covering her arms and she often spoke of her wife and three adopted children. Jungkook liked listening about them, mostly because it meant he didn’t have to talk about himself but also because he caught the genuine spark in her eye that would twinkle whenever she mentioned them. He envied that. 

“How’ve you been doing, Jungkook?” 

“Fine.” 

“Have you been taking your medication?” 

“Yes.” 

“Do you feel it has been helping?” 

“Maybe. A bit.” 

“How’s your sleeping been?” 

“Fine.” 

“Any bad dreams?” 

“No.” 

Kate shifts in her chair, knowing smile fixed on his face. 

“Let’s talk about the holidays, how did you spend them?” 

“With my family.” Laying in bed. 

“Did your family come to visit? Or did you go out of town to them?” 

“No. It was just me, my dad and his girlfriend.” 

"I assume you spent time with your girlfriend, what's her name again?"  
"Jennie."  
"Yes, Jennie. How is she? Is your relationship doing well?"  
"Yeah, she's great." Jungkook said flatly. He was lying, he hadn't seen her at all over the holidays. Had ignored all her calls.

Kate hummed, “And did you see your friends?” 

“Yes.” No. 

“What did you all do?” 

“Went to the beach. Partied a bit.” Jungkook shrugged. 

“That’s good. You feel comfortable around large groups of people?” 

“Yes, its got better.” No, it makes me feel like I’m drowning. 

“Do you still enjoy writing? I’ve read some of you work your teachers sent me, it’s very good. Maybe you’ll become an author like you mother?” 

“I don’t write anymore.” 

“And why is that? You seem very talented at it.” 

“Jessamyn West said, ‘Writing is so difficult that writers, having had their hell on earth, will escape all punishment here-after.’” 

She lights up at this. “Do you feel you’re being punished?” She was talking about the accident. Or maybe she was referring to being there, in that office, that town, that life. 

“No.” Do I feel I should be punished? Yes, he thinks, why else would I have cut my own bangs? 

“Do you believe you are responsible for what happened?” 

Jungkook flicks his unruly hair and the bangs now with the movement of his neck as they hang in his eyes. They’re lopsided. “No.” 

She sits back. Her smile slips a fraction of an inch. They both know he’s lying. He wonders what she’d say if she knew the other night he was being talked off the side of a bridge. 

“Have you driven yet?” 

“No.” 

“Have you allowed yourself to ride in the car with your father, or your friends?” 

“No.” 

“But they want you too.” That wasn’t a question. She speaks as if she’s spoken to every person in Jungkook’s life and received all their feedback on the matter. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had. 

“I’m not ready.” Those are the three magic words Jungkook had been hiding behind for an entire year now, discovering they could get him out of almost anything. 

She leans forward, “You’ve returned to football I hear, are you ready for your first game back?” 

“Yes, I’ve been training.” No, I’m probably going to puke. 

“Good. You seem to be doing well. Maybe the next step is to get in a car then.” 

“I’m not ready.” 

She sits back again. For a moment Jungkook thinks she’s give up, then she says, “I’m concerned about this stunting your progress further, Jungkook. Frankly, you should be further along than you are right now. You can’t avoid cars forever. Especially if you’re expected to attend football games, not all will be at home. You can’t keep standing still. You need to remember that you are a survivor and that means...” 

Jungkook never hears what that means because as soon as he heard the word ‘survivor’, he stood up and walked out.


	5. Attentivity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A noise from the room interrupts him. Someone has come in late and dropped a book, and then, in picking up the book, has knocked over a jar of pencils on a desk so everything has gone tumbling. This is followed by laughter because apparently, they were still in middle school and were predictably going to take entertainment from a peer's misfortune. Of course, it is none other than Jeon Jungkook, who looks positively mortified and a lot less threatening when not surrounded by his violent football team buddies. 
> 
> For a moment Taehyung was stunted as to why on earth he was in an Art History class, as he most certainly wasn’t an art major, before remembering what Mr Black had mentioned at the beginning of class. A photography major, then. Interesting. Jungkook had turned a beet red and was mumbling his apologies to Mr Black as he began picking up the pencils and wore an expression that could be perceived as nothing except ‘I want to die’. Not in a jumping-from-a-great-height king of way, more along the lines of, Please, earth, swallow me whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi... sorry its been a while. a lot has been happening but i'm aiming to hit a 'once a week' upload schedule but... no promises ><  
> also... i said slow burn and i mean... slowwww burn  
> im so excited to get into the angst i can't wait to torture you all

TAEHYUNG 

Taehyung was accustomed to the constant chatter and gossip of the rumor mill that latched onto college inhabitants like a leech. For example, on his way to Art History that morning, he walked behind a group of girls in the hallway who were going on and on about his confrontation with Jackson two days prior, not knowing that the boy behind them was in fact THE Kim Taehyung. He hadn’t seen much of the group since then, and no sight of a particularly pretty pair of doe eyes that played on his mind. 

It was nothing new for Taehyung to be the talk of the college as the stories followed him from high school of his outbursts, fights and his apparently outrageous crime of being openly gay, following on to the many instances that occurred at college, no matter how big or small, as once the gossipers got their hands on the information it was guaranteed to become twisted and dramatized beyond belief. Taehyung had learnt to find entertainment in the matter, as opposed to getting angry at the falseness of it all. 

The girls talk over each other in those high voices that always end in question marks. I heard he had a gun? I heard Jackson had to wrestle it out of his hands? My cousin Justin, who goes works out in New York, says that him and his friends saw him out there last summer and he said he was totally working in a strip club? Well my brother was there when he set off the firecrackers, and he said before the police took him away, he was all like “Unless you want to reimburse me, I’ll wait for the finale”? 

Apparently, he was tragic and dangerous. Oh yeah, he thought, That’s right. I’m here and now and not just awake, but Awake, and everyone can just fucking deal with it. 

So he leaned in and said, “I heard he did it over a boy,” and swaggered all the way to class. 

Inside the classroom he took his seat, feeling infamous and invincible and twitchy and strangely exhilarated, as if he’d just escaped, well, death. He looked around but no one was paying attention to him or Mr Black, their Art History teacher, who was literally the largest man he’d ever seen. He had a red, red face that always made him look like he was on the verge of heatstroke or a heart attack, and he wheezed when he spoke. 

Mr Black settles into his chair and clears his throat. 

“Today we have...the students from photography down... the hall joining us for the next... few weeks as the Art department works on... a collective project.” Due to the wheezing, was difficult to tell whether Mr Black was overly impressed by the information he was relaying. “In our town... you are likely all familiar with... Clifftop point, which lies on the outskirts... where you will find it looks out... over the coast, 1257 feet above sea level... In 2005 a group of... artists from Los Angeles... got permission to carve artwork... into the walls of the cliff... which you can see when you follow the path up... to the highest point.” 

Taehyung raises his hand, which Mr Black ignores. 

As he talks, he leaves his hand in the air and thinks. What if I went there and stood on the point? Would things look different from 1257 feet? It doesn’t seem very high, but they’re proud of it, and who am I to say 1257 feet isn’t something to be impressed by? 

Finally, he nods at Taehyung, his lips so tight it looks like he’s swallowed them. “Yes, Mr Kim?” He signs the sigh exasperation and gives him an apprehensive, distrustful look. 

“I suggest a field trip. We need to see the wondrous sites that represent artistic culture while we still can, because at least three of us in this room are going to graduate and leave this great state at the end of this year, and what will we have to show for it except a subpar public college education. Besides artwork is hard to take in unless you see it. Kind of like the Grand Canyon or Yosemite. You need to be there to really appreciate it’s splendor.” 

Taehyung’s only being twenty percent sarcastic, but Mr Black says, “Thankyou, Mr Kim,” in a way that means the direct opposite of thankyou. Taehyung starts drawing hills in his notebook in tribute to their state’s highest point, across the lined pages where he should be articulating the cultivating history of art itself. 

“Taehyung is correct that some... of you will leave... here at the end of... this school year to go....somewhere else to chase your... artistic desires and dreams... You’ll be departing our... great state, and before... you do... you should see the art it holds... in its history, you should... wander..” 

A noise from the room interrupts him. Someone has come in late and dropped a book, and then, in picking up the book, has knocked over a jar of pencils on a desk so everything has gone tumbling. This is followed by laughter because apparently, they were still in middle school and were predictably going to take entertainment from a peer's misfortune. Of course, it is none other than Jeon Jungkook, who looks positively mortified and a lot less threatening when not surrounded by his violent football team buddies. 

For a moment Taehyung was stunted as to why on earth he was in an Art History class, as he most certainly wasn’t an art major, before remembering what Mr Black had mentioned at the beginning of class. A photography major, then. Interesting. Jungkook had turned a beet red and was mumbling his apologies to Mr Black as he began picking up the pencils and wore an expression that could be perceived as nothing except ‘I want to die’. Not in a jumping-from-a-great-height king of way, more along the lines of, Please, earth, swallow me whole. 

Taehyung knows this feeling better than he knows his mum, or sister or self-proclaimed soulmate Park Jimin. This feeling and him had been together his entire life. Like the time he gave himself a concussion during a football game after tripping and falling down the bleacher stairs, the crash so loud all the players and spectators had turned and paused to stare at him; or the time he had laughed so hard that something flew out of his nose and landed on Jackson Wang; or the entire eighth grade. 

And so, because he’s used to it, and because Jungkook looked more like a deer in the headlights as opposed to an egotistical jock, he knocks one of his own books onto the floor. All eyes shift to him. Taehyung bends to pick it up, purposefully sending the others flying- boomeranging into walls, chairs, windows, heads- and for good measure, he tilted his chair over so he went crashing. 

This is followed by snickers and applause and a ‘freak’ or two, and Mr Black wheezing, “If you’re quite done... Mr Kim... I’d like to continue.” 

Taehyung rights himself, rights the chair, takes a bow, collects his books, bows again, settled in his seat, before grinning at the pair of doe eyes regarding him across the room with a look that could only be described as surprise and relief and something else, something guarded- worry maybe. Taehyung would like to think there’s a little lust mixed in there too, but it’s probably wishful thinking. The smile Taehyung gives him is the best one he has- it's the one that convinces his mother to forgive him when he stays out too late, or when he’s just being generally weird. 

Jungkook seems to buffer for a second, before he lets slip a shy smile back, barely a lift of the lips, but there nonetheless. Taehyung immediately feels better, because he feels better and because of the way he smiled at him, as if he’s not something to be avoided. It’s almost as if that one little smile can make up for the years of torment Jungkook’s friends put him through as he stood by and watched. Tenderhearted Taehyung, is what his mother always said, ‘Too tenderhearted for his own good.’ It’s meant to as a criticism and he takes it as one. 

Mr Black’s voice droned on, “As I was saying... your project for this... class is to report on... at least two, preferably... three pieces of art... found in and hidden within... day to day life... in our state... even better if you...can find some... in our own town.” 

Mr Black goes on about how he wants them to feel free to discover the places themselves and record it. Taking photos, shooting a video, writing about the history and delving deep into the founders of it. They have the rest of the semester to complete the project and they have to take it seriously, (there’s an aimed glare as Taehyung.) 

“Which is why...we are partnering with the... photography course. Photography is...a form of art, and... each of you will be partnered... one art student to one ...photography student...so you can collaborate on... your written work...and your photo or video evidence. You may choose...as a pair whether... you would prefer.... to create a video project... of your chosen pieces... or a photo project. There is freedom... in the style you want... to express yourself in... as long as you meet...all the criteria. This will count... as thirty-five percent... of your final grade.” 

Taehyung raises his hand again, “Can we chose our partners?” 

“Yes, Mr Kim... you may...choose your partners.” 

“I choose Jeon Jungkook.” He blurts. 

“You may work...that our with him...after class.” 

Taehyung shifts in his seat so he can see him, rests his elbow on the back of his chair, and directs his attention across the room. “Jeon Jungkook I’d like to be your partner on this project.” 

Jungkook turns bright red in the face as everyone looks at him. He says to Mr Black, “Sir, I thought there was something else I could do- maybe research and write a report myself.” His voice is low but he sounds pissed. 

“You are a... photographer Mr Jeon... so go and take some photos.” 

“Sir, I’m not ready to...” 

Mr Black interrupts him, “Mr Jeon, I’m going... to do you the biggest favour...of your life...and say...no.” 

“No?” 

“No. It is a new year...It is time to get...back on the camel.” 

A few people laugh at this, but the atmosphere is tense and awkward. Jungkook looks at Taehyung and he could tell that yes, he is pissed, and it’s then that he remembers the accident. Jungkook and his sister. Jungkook lived, the sister didn’t. Taehyung tries to catch Jungkook’s eyes again, but he doesn’t look up. Just shrinks further into his seat and stares straight ahead. 

* 

At home that evening, Taehyung’s mother is talking on the phone while defrosting a microwaveable pasta dish. His sister, Kita, is sprawled out over the sofa texting on her phone and doesn’t even look up as he comes in. A typical 13 year old really. Their mother had only ever planned on having one child, as soon after he was born their father started to change, so clearly she was a mistake, but if anyone was the mistake there it was Taehyung. 

He goes upstairs, wet shoes squeaking on the floor, and shuts the door to his room. He pulls out something old and on vinyl without checking what it is and slaps it onto a turntable he found in his neighbour’s trash, (don’t ask why he was looking through the trash. Just, don’t.) The record bumps and scratches, sounding like something from the 1920’s. Peering in the mirror Taehyung decided it was time to dye his hair again, he was bored of the brown. 

Pulling out the bleach kit he kept in his draw, he ripped open the power and formula and began mixing with practiced skill. Jimin said he couldn’t believe how his hair hadn’t fallen out yet he had dyed it so much. Layering on the bleach in small sections over his scalp before eventually covering the lengths, Taehyung used deft nimble fingers to part his hair swiftly and evenly. 

While waiting for the bleach to do it’s job, he rummaged through his draw for a cigarette and stuck it in his mouth before lighting it. If things were normal his mum would be on his ass for smoking in his room. Maybe she’d complain about the smell or chastise him about his health. But things aren’t normal. He’s not normal. His mother and sister know that no one is allowed in his room. It’s not about some cliché teen attitude or whatever it is you’re thinking. NO ONE steps foot in his room. It’s his safe space, his sanctuary. And if he disappears in there for days on end, or sometimes even weeks, they know to leave him alone until he slowly ventures out at the end of it in search of some more sustaining food compared to the crisps kept in his bedside drawer. 

Taehyung pulled up his laptop and opened his notes, typing: January 5th. TOD: Night. Method: Bell tower of school. On a scale of one to ten on the how-close-did-I-come-scale: 6. Facts: Jumping increases on full moons and holidays. Related fact: A famous jumper is Franz Reichelt, in 1912 he jumped off the Eiffel Tower wearing a parachute suit he designed himself. He jumped to test his invention- he expected to fly- but instead he fell straight down, hitting the ground like a meteor and leaving a 5.9inch deep crater from the impact. Did he mean to kill himself? Doubtful. I think he was just cocky, and also stupid. REASONS FOR NOT JUMPING: Too messy. Notes: I’m a few days late updating, I’ve been busy. Not trying to die (??). I found something, well, someone. This is weird I feel like a teenage girl writing about her crush in her pink diary. It’s not a crush btw. Just, interest. Kind of. (AAAAAAAAA). 

Taehyung closes his laptop and picks up his phone, flicking to Instagram. He didn’t have some outstanding following, he could think of nothing he’d despise more. He tended to throw up photos of his sketches on there, and the only other photo differing from his art, was a photo of Jin and Jimin, sitting on the grass in the park. Jin was glaring at the camera while tossing up a middle finger, and Jimin was tipping his head back in a seductive pose whilst winking. 

Taehyung scrolled through his followed and found Hoseok, clicking on his profile to be assaulted with an explosion of colour and his 10.7k followers glaring at him. Hoseok used an excessive amount of emoji’s in his bio and all his captions with the brightly edited photos of him grinning with whatever set of hundreds of friends he possessed. Scrolling down, a particular photo caught his eye, he found what he was looking for. Hoseok has his arm slung over the shoulders of none other than Jeon Jungkook, who was grinning widely at the camera. 

His face was full and glowing and he looked healthy and, happy. Nothing like the corpse that trudged around college. Taehyung checked the date, the photo was over a year old. It made sense. Clicking on Jungkook’s tagged profile he was taken to a new page. It definitely wasn’t what he expected, with Jungkook being a on the football team he expected the usual posts of friends, parties and game shots. Instead, he was met with a clean, retro feed, of his photography. As he scrolled the photos ranged from landscapes, to photoshopped, to streets, and finally as he scrolled further, a girl. 

She was the spitting image of Jungkook himself, just a feminine version. Where his sharp jawline sat, hers was a soft curve. Where his wide shoulders lay, hers were dainty, fragile collarbones poking through. Their skin was the same milky white, and their hair the same wavy chocolate brown. She has his doe eyes and soft set lips, as if carefully crafted by an artist. 

It was clear to Taehyung, though maybe not to the untrained eye, that she was his muse. Photos of her posing, of her angled, of her simply walking or sitting, littered his Instagram feed. He was a talented photographer, incredibly so, but the energy of the photos seemed to twist and change. Where the ones of his sister held a soft, colourful aesthetic, the photos following her last were dark and moody. All black and white, of wilting flowers, dirty streets and stormy clouds. 

It was painfully stark what had changed the mood in his photos, yet still entirely enrapturing for Taehyung. He truly lived and breathed art. And Jungkook’s photos weren’t just photos. They were emotions and feelings, captured precisely in snaps of moments. They were beautiful. 

A heavy feeling began to settle in Taehyung’s chest as he started at his phone screen. Knawing on his bottom lip, he flopped backwards against his beach, not caring if the bleach would stain his sheets, and sighed heavily. 

“Fuck it.” He clicked the follow button on Jungkook’s page and promptly lobbed his phone to the other side of the room before he could regret the decision. Also so he wouldn’t check every five minutes to see if he received one back. 

He pulled himself up, half heartedly wiped to bleach that had smeared onto his sheets, before heading to the bathroom to wash it out. He then decided to keep his mind busy. He towel dried his hair, started sketching, played a bit on the guitar, re arranged his shoes, and finally goes down to eat dinner with his mother and Kita, a tradition that started when their father left. Even though he wasn’t much into eating, dinner was one of the most enjoyable parts of his day, as he got to turn his brain off. 

“Kita, tell me what you learnt today.” Their mother says. She makes sure she asks about school so she feels like she’s done her duty. 

Kita says, “I’ve learnt that Jacob Barry is a jackass.” She’d been swearing a lot more often lately, trying to get a reaction out of their mum, to see if she’s really listening. 

“Kita,” she responded mildly, but she was only half paying attention. Kita goes on to explain how a boy called Jacob glued his hands to the desk just to get out of a science quiz, but when they tried to separate skin from wood, his palms came off with the glue. Kita’s eyes gleam like that of a small rabid animal, clearly thinking he deserved it, and then she said as much. 

“Kita!” Their mother is suddenly listening, shaking her head. That was the extent of her parenting. Ever since their dad left, she tried really hard to be gentle with them. It was understandable, as he would use fists and shoves, she simple gently shook her head. It was like she felt guilty every time she knew she had to scold them, knowing what their father had done, so she tended to let most things slide. It suited Taehyung and Kita perfectly well. Still, he felt bad for because of something she said once, “I will never forgive myself for the way I failed you.” He didn’t blame her, she was subject to the violence just as much as they were, but at times it felt like she should’ve done more. She was their mother, wasn’t she supposed to protect them? 

These thoughts filled him with immense guilt, remembering how she’d sobbed on the kitchen floor, broken and battered and bleeding, and how he’d had to gently coax her up once it was all over, and remind her that she didn’t deserve it and it wasn’t her fault. Taehyung tried his best to be pleasant and quiet, making himself small and unseen- which included pretending to go to school when he was asleep, as in The Asleep- so that he didn’t add to the burden, not always being successful. 

“How was your day, Taehyung?” 

“Grand.” He pushed his food around his plate, trying to create a pattern. The thing about eating is that there are so many other more interesting things to do. He felt the same way about sleeping, a complete waste of time. 

Interesting fact: A Chinese man once died from lack of sleep when he stayed awake for eleven days straight as he attempted to watch every game in the European Championships. On the eleventh night, he watched Ireland beat Italy 2-0, took a shower, and fell asleep around 5am. And died. No offence to the dead, Taehyung thought, but soccer is a really stupid thing to stay awake for, and even more so to die for. 

His mother had stopped eating and was studying his face carefully. When she did pay attention, which wasn’t often, she tried hard to be understanding about his ‘sadness’, just like she tried hard to be patient when he stayed out all night, or when Kita spends time in the principal’s office. She blamed the bad behaviour on their childhood, saying that they just needed time to work through it. 

Less sarcastically, he added “It was okay. Uneventful. Boring. Typical.” They move onto easier topics, like the house their mother is trying to sell for her clients, and the weather. 

When dinner is over, their mother lays a hand on Taehyung’s arm, fingertips barely touching his skin, as she says, “Isn’t it nice to have your brother back, Kita?” She said it as if he were in danger of disappearing again, right in front of their eyes. The slightly blaming tone in her voice makes him cringe, and he gets the urge to go back to his room again and stay there. Even though she tried to forgive his sadness, she wanted to count on him as the man of the house, and even though she thought he was in school for the four-five-week period, he did miss a lot of family dinners. She took her fingers back and then they’re free, which is exactly how they act, all running off in different directions. 

Taehyung flew back to his room and slammed the door. No one had commented on his hair. Unsurprising really, as they were used to him dying it an absurd amount, but still. He wondered if anyone had even noticed. Picking up his phone with the intention of messaging the group chat, an Instagram notification sent a small thrill through his body. 

Instagram: @jeonjk1 has followed you back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’ve posted on my twitter @vminlilyx what i imagine jungkook’s photography to be like if you’re interested


	6. UPDATE ON THIS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i will delete this

umm.... hi there o+o  
sorry i just dipped entirely?? that’s like my biggest ever pet peeve w fic writers and i’m a big ass hypocrite because i just did it??? i was going crazy trying to get my college work completed for my final project because i procrastinated it for two months then had only two weeks to do the entire thing x x x nice one x x x 

anyway !! that’s done now!! so i’m going to be back to writing this ASAP! i promise i’ll have a new chapter up soon thankyou for all your patience and i’m sorry for letting u guys down T_T 

also pls forgive the text talk am v tired lmao

in conclusion: i haven’t abandoned this fic! i’ll be back soon! thank u for waiting :D

**Author's Note:**

> pls leave a comment below with any constructive critism!  
> i have no idea what im doing lmaoooo  
> my twitter is @vminlilyx if u wanna come yell at me or want updates n shit :P


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